Stand By Me
by ValorOrgulloso
Summary: Draco Malfoy was a haughty ten-year-old boy who was finally coming to terms with his pureblood inheritance. Harry Potter was a silent ten-year-old boy who was in a state barely more functional than a Chocolate Frog; at least until Draco came along. DMHP
1. Chapter 1

Stand By Me

_"Things will happen in your life that you can't stop, but that's no reason to shut out the world. There's a purpose for the good and the bad." _- Crazy Pete _Now and Then_

It was the summer I turned ten when I first met him. I didn't realize at the time that that first meeting with him would change my life forever. I was a wealthy, spoiled snob, too, but I didn't realize that either. It's funny how much our lives can change in a few precious instances. Some say it was luck that I ever even met my best friend. I say it was fate.

The day I met him began as a dreadfully mediocre July morning. It didn't seem like a particularly different beginning than any other summer day before, but that was soon to change. Mother, as usual, was out at brunch with her lady friends, and my father was in his study. My mother was a Pureblood social elite, which was an important role to fit into. She reminded me how a truly classy citizen of the Wizarding orld was to act several times a week.

It was in my blood to upkeep the Malfoy family name, she said, and I wasn't going to screw it up for a careless affair or a silly daydream. The few times she caught me playing out my own made up scenarios, she ordered me to stop all my nonsense at once and, for the love of Merlin, couldn't I do something constructive and quiet like a good, little boy? I would immediately simmer down and do some other activity that wouldn't offend her to pieces like read a book or do a puzzle. It wouldn't last long, though, and I would eventually revert back to playing games. Mother would become even angrier than before when this happened and put me in time out or punish me. I was a lonely child, and my forced lifestyle made me bitter and distant. I wanted to play games like any normal child, but I was never allowed.

Father was similar in opinion, if a bit colder. He punished me harshly with a spanking or a curse if I didn't behave the way he wanted me to. I was improper and a burden, in his opinion, and that just wouldn't do. I was always on my best behavior when I was around my father. He was very strict. I blamed his mannerisms and attitude on the war; he didn't know any other way to get me to behave.

My parents loved me, I knew, but we were never sentimental. Rarely was I told _I love you_, and I wasn't given much affection. I grew uncomfortable with any form of intimate contact with other human beings. I rarely, if ever, saw my parents hug or kiss. That's just the way they were.

I was never allowed pets or friends. Pets were dirty, and other children made too much noise and filth.

I only had acquaintances. I met a few children when their parents invited my family over for social gatherings and parties, but never was I allowed to invite them home to the manor. I was never invited over to play with them either.

I resented my parents, but I rebelled in my own ways. I talked back to them, but the only place that got me was a sore rear end and no dinner. I eventually learned to accept my fate as a prisoner in my own home, but that didn't stop me from occasionally acting out. Those times were few and far between, though, by the time I was ten.

So, as usual, on that July morning, I was sitting on a loveseat in one of the porches surrounding my house with a book in boredom, trying not to do anything that my mother or father would classify as frivolous or wasteful. My eyes skimmed the pages unseeingly and uncomprehendingly. I couldn't help but think reading this idiotic book was wasteful in itself. I sighed, wishing it was a Saturday. I pulled my feet up from the floor and sat on them, leaning my head against the arm rest. If my father were to find me in my current position, I'd be in trouble, but I didn't care. I looked up with a heavy sigh from my book and stared out the screened in window at our extensive grounds.

I was allowed to fly my broomstick and explore the grounds on Saturdays. My parents said I was only allowed out to do it because it let out my pent-up anxiety for the week. I snorted softly as I watched a gray bird fly through the air and perch itself upon a tree. My Saturday outings did nothing of the sort. If anything, they made me long to escape the house even more than before. Even at age ten I knew I needed to get out more than I already did.

I watched the bird chirp and fly a bit more, wishing I were him, before I heard footsteps quickly approaching the door leading to the porch, and I hastily dropped my scrunched up feet out from under me smoothly and sat up properly, pretending once more to be interested in the exceedingly dull book.

"Draco," my father said as he entered the room, his very being commanding my full attention. He was a rather formidable man even without knowing what he was capable of accomplishing.

"Yes, father?" I asked, making sure to keep my tone polite and neutral. It wouldn't due for father to be disapproving of me so early in the day.

"We're in dear need of paying Severus Snape a visit, wouldn't you agree?" father asked. I knew it was a rhetorical question and waited out the pause. "Get your shoes. I'm going to give you a tour of Hogwarts before I conduct my business with your godfather. You must know your way around the castle properly before you attend the school yourself a year from now."

"Yes, father." I stood up and headed towards my room immediately to get myself ready for the trip. Secretly, I was thrilled at the prospect of getting out of the manor. It was rare for me to venture outside these four walls.

When I returned to my father, I tried to hide my excitement, but I could tell some of it shone through my façade as he glared at me lightly.

We would be taking a Portkey, as we always did when visiting Severus. My father believed the Floo was too dirty and for blood traitors like the Weasleys, and Apparition wasn't possible when going to Hogwarts unless we wanted to Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk, but Merlin knew my father would never would bring himself to do something as degrading as walking half a mile to Hogwarts.

I grabbed hold of the Portkey and was whisked away roughly by a tugging on my navel. Just when I thought the feeling would never end, we landed, I a bit roughly yet still on my feet. It wouldn't do for a Malfoy to fall over, after all.

"This way, Draco," my father said as I looked around the stony hall. It wasn't often I came to Hogwarts to visit Severus, as he normally came to the manor, but when I did I took in as many details as possible. I didn't want to forget anything about the wondrous castle.

I hurried to keep up with my father's long strides as he showed me around the castle. The only places I had seen before were the dungeons and Entrance Hall.

We were on the fourth floor when a thought struck me. "Are you sure we're allowed to just wander around the corridors?" I immediately regretted my words, not knowing if my father would take them as impertinence.

To my surprise, he just looked down at me and gave a little smirk. He didn't answer, but I was relieved he wasn't angry at me. I assumed we never actually had received permission to be wandering the Hogwarts' halls, but so help me if that was going to stop him from doing what he wanted. He was a very influential, powerful man, my father.

We continued exploring Hogwarts for the next few minutes until my father cast a time-checking charm and briskly turned around, his dark robes billowing out behind him impressively.

"It's time for us to head down to Severus's quarters," he said. He did not wait to see if I was following him.

We arrived in the dungeons quickly enough, I trying to discreetly look at all the moving portraits that covered the walls; there weren't very many paintings in the dungeons and only dark, intimidating ones in the manor.

We entered through a large wooden door. Severus was waiting for us at the door when we arrived, his trademark sneer in place.

"Hello, Lucius… Draco," he said. He looked mildly disturbed by my presence. He glared at my father reproachfully – he was one of the few people that could do that and get away with it: I had no idea why. "It seems to me I only recall requesting one Malfoy's presence today."

My father did not react to Severus. He just turned to look down where I was standing as straight and poised as I could possibly manage and ordered, "Draco, go take a walk. Don't leave the dungeons. I'll come for you later."

"But, father –" I whined instantly, wanting to know what Severus wanted to discuss. I didn't want to be left out.

I was silenced by the stern look my father sent my way. "Draco, you will do as I say without question. Is that clear?" His voice was deadly.

I was in trouble, I knew, and I cast my eyes downward. Malfoys never hung their heads.

"I said, _is that clear?_"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now run along."

I exited the room, disappointed, and not before sending one last curious glance back at Severus and my father. I wondered what they could possibly be discussing that would not be allowed for my ears as well.

It wouldn't do for me to stress myself out over them, though. It was probably just some boring, adult conversation that would provide no interest to me whatsoever.

I tried to convince myself of that before running down the corridor as fast as I could, desperate to be far away from the two men as physically possible. I was furious. I was never allowed to do _anything_. I ran up a flight of stairs, now realizing I was no longer in the dungeons. I didn't care, though. I just wanted to make my father angry. He was always telling me what to do, and, though I was desperate to please him, sometimes I couldn't stand the man.

In my haste to get away, I didn't realize I had become completely and utterly lost. I wiped my eyes, which had become wet with unshed tears of ten-year-old fury and hurt. And, despite my earlier tour, I was in a wing of the castle I had never been in before.

I sniffed pitifully and leaned against the wall, hoping vindictively that my father would never find me and then feel horribly guilty and get in trouble with my mother for losing me.

"_I hate them, I hate them, I hate them,_" I chanted angrily under my breath, pushing the heels of my palms against my eyes as though I could really block out the world. I released my eyes and began to tug on my golden tresses with frustration. I muffled a growl.

At the time, even I realized I was acting childishly, but I couldn't bring myself to care much. I was ten, I argued, and I earned the rights to act like this every once in a while after my stellar behavior at the manor all summer.

A sudden crashing from the hallway adjacent to the one I currently resided in caught my attention. It sounded like metal. I quickly ran down the corridor to investigate, previous anger forgotten briefly in place of newfound curiosity.

I halted as soon as I saw the scene before me. At first, I didn't know what to make of the mess, but, on further assessment, I realized that one of the knights that line the hall was lying in scattered pieces across the stone floor.

I picked up the head of the knight and looked at it for a moment. I was about to set it back down, not really wanting to get caught by anyone holding a helmet of one of the knights, especially one that was scattered across the ground in little pieces, when I heard a small sniffle coming from a nook in the side of the hallway.

I paused, silent and clutching the knight helmet tightly to my chest fearfully as I stared at the entrance I heard the sniff. Another sniff made itself known, and I cautiously took a step towards the noise. My foot crashed against a breastplate irritably, and I held my breath. My heart was beating rather fast, and I suddenly berated myself. What was I doing just standing there – _approaching _the thing? This was Hogwarts, and who knew what kinds of creatures could be lurking in shadowed corners and doorways? I turned around, fully intent on making a run for it, but a shout halted me, scaring me half to death.

"_Wait!_" I sucked in a breath sharply and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the impact. A whimper left my mouth involuntarily.

But it never came.

Instead, something even more surprising did; a soft caress. I jumped and turned around, holding the helmet ever more tightly as though it could protect me from whatever harm lay ahead of me.

Like a boy. A small boy. A boy with black hair and goofy glasses. A _harmless_ boy. For, before me stood a small, nervous boy who couldn't have been older than I was. He was shaking, his mouth hanging open in words that didn't emerge. He was scruffy and skinny, but he was wearing wizard robes like I was.

I would have found the situation funny if it happened to someone else. As it was, I was ridiculously embarrassed, and, in order to protect myself from further humility, I immediately became defensive.

"And who might _you_ be?" This was how I talked to Crabbe and Goyle to show I was their superior. Why should this boy be addressed any differently?

His mouth opened and closed silently. He looked scared.

I harrumphed. "Well, can't you talk?" The little boy flinched, and his eyes filled up with tears. An uncomfortable weight immediately settled in my stomach which I tried to ignore.

The boy had done a one-eighty and would have flown down the corridor had I not grabbed his petite wrist just in time. He was shaking, and I grew desperate.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" I had never had to apologize to anyone except my parents before, and it took a stab at my pride to apologize to this small boy.

His quivering didn't stop, and I sighed. "No, really." My voice was softer and gentler than before. "Sorry."

He seemed less tense, and his shaking became less violent now that I had lowered the harshness of my tone. I felt it safe to finally let go of him.

"What's your name?" I asked.

He didn't answer me, instead choosing to stare at the mess that lay around us hopelessly. He didn't seem like a very verbose bloke, so, like my parents trained me to do, I began talking. I was never to let an acquaintance get bored in my presence.

"We should probably go somewhere else," I began. "I don't want to be found with this knight and get _blamed_ for it, do you?" The thought of actually getting blamed for something I didn't do did not sit well with me.

The boy hesitantly looked up from the pieces. I smiled at him encouragingly, trying, for once in my life, to make someone else feel comfortable. I normally only smiled on Saturdays when I flew my broom, but I supposed I some change in my schedule every once in a while wouldn't hurt.

The boy tentatively and shyly smiled back then shook his head. I took that to mean he wanted to get out of there, so I grasped his hand in mine, pulling him down the corridor.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, by the way," I began. "Father brought me here to give me a tour of Hogwarts, which is _so_ much more interesting than what I normally do at the manor. But then he had to go meet with my godfather, and they kicked me out of the room because they had some important _grownup_ business to do. It's not fair, you know. I never get to do _anything_ fun or interesting. I mean, for the past week, I swear all I've done is eat, sleep, read, and go to the bathroom. I'm an aristocrat! I shouldn't be treated like I am – but, you know what? I am. No friends, no pets, no fun. You know what, I don't _care_ anymore! We should be friends! I don't care what father thinks. I don't care what mother wants. What d'you say? Do you want to be friends?"

I supposed my rant _was_ a little overwhelming for the poor boy, but I couldn't help it. Even if all this boy could say was _Wait!_ I wanted a friend. I was only ever in contact with other Pureblood children, and, admittedly, they were no more interesting than the book I was reading earlier today.

I looked expectantly over at the boy who looked confused and a little more than overwhelmed at my outburst. At the same time, though, it appeared he was trying to hold back laughter. We stopped walking, and I released his hand.

We were quiet for a few tense moments, and I almost began talking again just to fill the silence, but the boy finally began to speak, and I halted my words, eager to hear what the boy had to say.

"I'm Harry." His voice was hoarse and wispy like he hadn't talked in a long time. He coughed after he spoke, but then he offered a tiny smile, and it made me happier than I had been in a long while.

I returned the smile and offered a hand. "Friends, then?"

To my surprise, he grinned, nodded, pushed away my arm, and gave me a hug.

I was so surprised, I almost didn't return the hug. I barely got the chance to, anyways, since I heard a distant yelling of, "Harry!"

As though he had been burned, Harry released me, avoiding my eyes and looking down at his feet.

A stern-looking old woman with a tight bun in her hair emerged from around the corner.

"Harry, where have you been?" she asked. "I was worried sick – you know not to run off like that, and – oh…" She seemed to finally notice me. "Hello, Mr…?"

"Malfoy," I offered, my tone reverting back to its aristocratic arrogance now that it wasn't just Harry and me. The lady looked surprised for a brief moment, then stern.

"I'm Professor McGonagall. Where is your guardian, Mr. Malfoy?" She walked up next to Harry and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"In the dungeons with Professor Snape, ma'am," I answered. "I don't know how to get back to them." And I didn't really care, either.

Her formidable face frowned lightly, creating wrinkles that made her appear older than before. "Well, I will just have to escort you back down to them, Mr. Malfoy. You should not have left the area. You are not a Hogwarts student. You could get lost! Well, then, come along." Briskly, she prompted Harry forward with a light push. I didn't correct her and tell her I _was_ actually lost. Very lost. But I was doing okay with Harry there. I resented her for breaking up our conversation so quickly. My first friend, and he was being taken away from me before we even could really _be_ friends.

I followed her obediently, if forlornly, since it seemed I didn't have much of a choice.

Harry escaped from her hold somehow and lagged back to walk next to me. I saw McGonagall turn around, surprised at Harry's sudden disappearance from her grasp. She looked away from the two of us, but it looked as if she was contemplating something. It seemed Harry wanted to grab my hand like I did his earlier, but now that there was an adult around, I wasn't sure I felt comfortable enough to do so. McGonagall seemed strict like my father, and lord knew my father wouldn't approve of any form of hand-holding.

I inadvertently shook my head, glancing briefly down at our nearing hands. Harry frowned a little bit, and I felt kind of guilty, but I brushed it off.

I tried to make up for my coldness by smiling at him. I could tell he appreciated the effort as he smiled back.

McGonagall tried to strike up a conversation with me. I could now tell her stern shell was just a cover for what she was trying to hide; she really was a kind, old woman. "So, Mr. Malfoy, how has your summer been? Have you done anything fun?"

I involuntarily grimaced. "It was satisfactory, ma'am," I said, parroting what my father always said when asked how his day or week had been. "I've been reading a lot," I added, trying to please the professor. I knew adults didn't like it too much when you didn't answer their questions right.

"You're a reader?" McGonagall asked, interested. I wanted to contradict her and tell her that no, I actually despised reading, but I restrained myself. I probably would have liked it a bit more had I not been doing it every second I was awake since I was five. "Have you read any good books as of late? It's so rare to find young people these days that really appreciate the art of literature."

Now I _really_ didn't want to contradict her. It would bring her off her high horse, for sure.

"Not lately, ma'am," I said.

"Hm." McGonagall's face was neutral when she looked over at me. It was clear our conversation was over.

"Do you live here, Harry?" I asked the boy who was standing mere inches away from me. "Do you live here at the castle?"

He looked up at McGonagall as though asking for her permission to answer. She smiled affectionately down at the boy. Harry, taking that as some sort of answer from the professor, turned back to me and brightly nodded his head.

"Really? That sounds wonderful! Is it fun? What do you do here all day?" I asked. Life at Hogwarts seemed so much more interesting than the manor. I had a feeling Harry didn't have to read books all day, at least.

Harry looked at me with a pained, conflicted expression. He didn't answer me.

McGonagall spoke over her shoulder. "Harry doesn't speak, Mr. Malfoy. He's mute."

"What? No he's not!" Of course, Harry might have been shy and quiet, but he wasn't mute. That was just cruel.

"I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, Harry has not said one single word the entire time he's been in my presence. And that has been for nine years," McGonagall told me in an almost amused tone.

"No, you don't understand! He told me his name! He said 'wait'!" I wailed at the professor, my previous Pureblood act now ruined and forgotten.

McGonagall raised a skeptical eyebrow at me before shifting her hawk-like gaze towards Harry, who was determinedly staring at his dark shoes. "Is this true, Harry? Did you speak?" McGonagall didn't sound as though she was convinced that he had spoken.

"I'm not _lying_," I insisted. McGonagall ignored me completely.

Harry let out a sigh before looking first at my insistent face then at McGonagall's curious one. He began to shake his head, but it started to form into a nod. He looked down sheepishly.

McGonagall's face took the form of something akin to a stunned Hippogriff, while mine glowed triumphantly.

"Are you sure?" the professor asked. Her voice sounded a few octaves too high.

Harry nodded again, not looking up from the ground.

"Of course he's sure!" I said.

"Oh my!" McGonagall said. She rushed over to Harry and embraced him tightly. It was an amusing scene, and I smirked at Harry as he looked over McGonagall's shoulder at me, looking slightly panicked. I heard some sniffs coming from McGonagall, and my smirk grew. I chuckled to myself softly.

"As touchingly sentimental as this scene is, we really must be going, Draco." I spun around to face the cold exterior of my father. He seemed calm to everyone else, but I had known his anger for years, and I could tell it was flickering in and out of him like a serpent. And all of it was aimed at me. I gulped audibly. I feared what would happen when I got home – I had disobeyed a direct order and ventured out of the dungeons. I now deeply regretted giving into my anger and running away.

McGonagall stood up straight, dabbing at her eyes lightly.

"Come, Draco," my father ordered. I sent a longing glance towards Harry. "Now!" I regretfully, if hurriedly, followed my father. Despite my reluctance to leave Harry without knowing whether or not we would see each other again, I didn't want to anger my father further.

He took out the Portkey, and he was getting ready to activate it when I suddenly felt a tugging at my sleeve. I compliantly subjected to the ministrations only to find myself in a warm, soft hug. Forgetting that my father was standing there, I returned the hug fiercely.

"I'll send you a letter with my owl," Harry whispered in my ear. I doubt anyone else had any idea words were being exchanged. I nodded against his neck. My first friend.

"Draco!" my father snapped. I hastily jumped away from Harry, sending my friend an apologetic look. He looked worried, glancing at my father then back at me. I ignored my father's cold glare. I knew I would pay dearly for showing such affection towards Harry when I got home.

"See you," I mouthed to him as my father and I touched the Portkey.

Just before I was whisked away, a scraggly old man ran by, a cat on his heels. "I'll _kill_ that bloody poltergeist! Knocking knights over like it's some bloody game—"

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**A/N: EDIT 12/24/09**

**Hey, review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Stand By Me

"_Ladies and gentleman! I've got an announcement to make. We got Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin going to camp with us this year. Jerry tells the jokes, Dean sings the songs and gets the girl. Let's give 'em a round of applause." –_Coach Boone _Remember the Titans_

My life over the next year was eventful. No longer was I confined to the manor. No, after that Hogwarts visit, father took me out to the shops of Wizarding London, the Ministry, homes of acquaintances, and anywhere else where I could learn how society was run.

I learned how to be the perfect Malfoy from my father. And how I learned. My new life philosophy practically chanted "Malfoys are superior to every person, place, and thing in existence" like a religious prayer. I was shown off to other families, important persons of the Ministry, and the "common people" of Diagon or Knockturn Alley. I learned how to socialize properly according to where people stood in society.

Family acquaintances were to be treated respectfully, but I didn't have to go out of my way to make them feel comfortable; I was superior to them, and while I would maintain in formal, courteous contact with them, I would also maintain my distance personally. People like the Minister of Magic were to be treated well, even though most of the time they didn't deserve it. I was to be extra courteous and friendly to people in high positions since I never knew when I would need their assistance. I did not need to show any real respect towards the people of the rest of the Wizarding world, but I did need to maintain appearances, so I had to treat them civilly as possible.

When I attended Hogwarts, I was, under no circumstances, to befriend anyone. I could make casual alliances for future help in any tricky situations, but with friends would bring me weakness. My father stressed this point to the extreme, as he himself knew how easy it would be to let myself fall into the trap of personal attachment. A year before I would have said this would have been an easy task to accomplish, but I had also not had any friends a year before.

Since I first ran into Harry, I regularly corresponded with him. It was a secret, of course, and I made sure I hid all evidence of owls and letters from my parents. I damn well near got caught reading a letter or feeding an owl quite a few times. My father didn't approve of Harry from the moment he saw him, but I'd be damned if I let him get in my way of writing to the only friend I had.

When we got back after that enlightening Hogwarts visit, my father gave me a harsh spanking using magic – he was, of course, not going to use filthy _Muggle_ techniques to punish his only son.

I understood, though, as to why he did it. He was only trying to help me, since I _had _been rather impertinent. I had to know my place, and that place was beneath my father. I was to respect and obey his orders. I had not, so I was punished.

I understood all of this, and I was certainly able to follow this chain of command.

Except for when it came to Harry.

What I didn't understand was why. Why had I ignored my father's wishes for me to be strong and independent from all personal relationships? Why did his words seem meaningless and empty the moment a white speck on the horizon appeared, soaring and carrying a small parcel? Why did my heart race in excitement every time I opened a new letter, like a small hummingbird beat its wings and hovered beside the feeder, ready and hungry for food? Why did I put so much effort into hiding the letters, so I could continue my secret correspondence with Harry? Why the risk?

The moment my father and I left on that Portkey, I should have forgotten Harry. I should have felt relief at the fact my father had saved me from such a weakness. I shouldn't have felt resentment that I was getting spanked for hugging Harry in front of my father. But I did. The spanking would have happened inevitably since I wandered off when my father firmly told me not to, but it was harsher than it should have been. My father didn't like Harry, and it bothered me. Too much.

But, my God, Harry was interesting. And funny. I had never known anyone who could make me laugh like he could, even if it was only on paper. My parents weren't amusing – they were chilly and false. The children I met were often crude with their humor at the expense of others. Harry was different. He had an innocence about him that had me in awe, and he never seemed cruel.

He briefly told me about his life, which sounded much more thrilling than mine. His parents died when he was one, and he grew up in the care of Professor McGonagall (although, he referred to her as "Minerva") and spent some weeks with his godfather whenever he had the chance to. He never had a friend until me, he said, since he had never met any other children. I found this odd, seeing as he grew up at Hogwarts, which was packed with children during the school year. Yet, I felt a certain warmth in my chest, knowing that I had his affections wholly.

He told me about Hogwarts – much more than I ever could have learned in some silly book. I was more anxious to be there than ever before. He told me about how funny some of the professors were and the strange magical occurrences that seemed to happen on a daily basis. He enlightened me on hidden passageways and vanishing stairs. He told me about the ghosts.

He was the same age as me, and I asked him if he was going to attend Hogwarts next year like I was. He informed me that if he was well enough he would. I asked him what he meant. Apparently, Minerva and his godfather were worried about him since he didn't talk and were considering private tutoring. He told me I was the only one he had ever spoken to. It made me depressed to think so, but he assured me I was the only person he ever felt compelled to exchange words with.

I told him about my life and how brutishly boring it was. Even with the outings, I wasn't very entertained. Sometimes I made up things to make me sound more interesting. I told him I lived in a haunted mansion that was four hundred years old that used to be owned by a revengeful ex-Minister of Magic that was out for blood on the people of society that had impeached him. I would get locked inside different rooms or pushed in closets by some unseen force. I would frequently be visited at night by the Minister's dead children, and they would tell me to do things like find their long-gone wands or teddy bears.

Harry never believed me even though he wouldn't mention it, and I was glad.

I told him things I would never mention to my parents or their acquaintances' children. I felt free to be myself. He seemed just as lonely, if not more so, than me, and that made me feel even closer to him. I longed to actually be near him; to actually talk to him and touch him; to see him smile or laugh at my words or even at all. I made up scenarios in my head in which Harry and I would be talking. We would be sitting out by the Hogwarts Lake or on one of my porches, and we would be laughing at some grand joke Harry told. I would feel very happy and safe, but then my father or mother would walk in on us and ruin the moment. They would make Harry leave, and then I would be spanked and forbid to ever meet with Harry again.

That was a great fear of mine: my father or mother finding out about Harry and making us stay apart. The thought made my stomach twist in cold knots.

Odd thing was I didn't even know his last name. It didn't bother me too much, but I was curious. I didn't know if he was Halfblood or Pureblood or Mudblood, but I couldn't bring myself to care. It might sound strange, considering my upbringing, but I knew in the end it didn't matter. I felt connected to him in a way I never had to anyone else, even though we had only met briefly. Our letters were enough. We were best friends no matter what. I knew this only after a short while of exchanging letters.

Harry was unlike anyone else I knew. He was different to me.

XIXIXIXIX

My father dropped me off at Madam Malkin's to get fitted for school robes while he went off and did business in Knockturn Alley. I didn't mind so much since it got me away from my father's stifling presence.

"What are your measurements, dear?" Madam Malkin asked. She was a few inches too close for comfort. I didn't like physical contact too much. Getting it was normally in the form of spankings. I told her I didn't know, so she pulled a measuring tape out of her pocket and began to fit me for school robes. It was taking a while, and I quickly became bored (and stifled) with Madam Malkin's hovering presence.

It took another ten minutes after the fitting before she told me my robes were ready to be purchased. I handed her the galleons and took the bag of robes from her grasp.

Several other Hogwarts students were getting fitted around me by assistants as I exited the shop. I glanced around, searching the crowd for a familiar face. I had no where to go until my father came back.

"Draco!" a voice called. It was a child's. My chest skipped, but I quickly became disheartened when I realized it was Pansy Parkinson, a model Pureblood child. She was alright, but she was rather boring. My parents stuck me to her for an arranged marriage, so I had to try and bear her existence and cope or else the rest of my life would be a very depressing one.

"Hello, Pansy. How are you?" I asked formally and stiffly, just as I was trained. She latched onto my arm happily, and I tried to pull away discreetly, but to no avail. I gave up and just went with it.

"Just wonderful, Draco! I came here with my parents, but they went off to buy my school books and potion ingredients for me. I left them, though, as they were boring me to tears." She began rambling on about some scam her mother had gotten into with the Aurors and how much money they had to pay to get out of the deep and dangerous waters and how excited she was for Hogwarts to begin and how we were going to have so much fun together in Slytherin and it would be great to be near each other all the time instead of only seeing each other a few times a year. I resisted the urge to vomit. She was such a leech.

I wanted to tell Pansy that she made me bored to tears like her parents did her, but I never got the chance. I spotted a mop of black hair disappearing through the crowd. I yanked my arm as hard as I could, and Pansy's grip slid off my arm. I took off running, rather frantically, through the crowd without another word to the annoying girl.

"Harry!" I yelled as loud as I could, sprinting through the crowd with my bag swinging wildly around at my side. I shouted his name again. This time he stopped and turned around. He was with a moderately young and skinny man with dark, curly hair. I barely paid him a second glance, though, as Harry had rushed forward. The next thing I knew, my bag was on the ground by my feet, but I could care less as Harry jumped into my arms.

I laughed with joy as I held onto him tightly. It had been a year since our last physical encounter, and it wasn't the least bit awkward. I held on tightly to Harry even though I never really liked or received hugs before. Harry was different from everyone else. He was the exception.

Harry pulled back, but we still held onto each others arms. Harry had grown, and his face had lost some baby fat. He looked brilliant.

"How've you been?" I asked earnestly, trying to hold back a foolish smile by biting my lip. I knew it wasn't working.

Harry smiled brightly at me, and leaned in. His mouth was mere millimeters from my ear. "Great. You?"

I never got the chance to answer as the thin, dark haired man approached, laying a hand upon Harry's shoulder.

"So you must be the friend Harry has been exchanging letters with," the man observed. Harry looked up at the man. "Harry… well, er, not so much as talks about you as communicates with us of your existence." He seemed slightly flustered. I wondered why.

I didn't know what to say to this, so I smiled awkwardly up at the man. Apparently Harry didn't talk to them still. He never mentioned his muteness much in the letters, and I never bothered to ask about it. But, it seemed, Harry was still as mute as it came when around other people. He really did only talk to me.

"I'm Sirius, Harry's godfather." I immediately fell into my charm mode. I was taught thoroughly if nothing else.

"I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy. How do you do?" I held out my hand confidently, finally releasing Harry from my hold. An odd expression strained across Sirius's face as he shook my hand. His smile was forced. Adults were weird, I decided.

"Good, thanks. How are you?"

"Satisfactory, sir."

I looked back at Harry to see him looking shyly up at me from underneath his fringe. Now that the initial greeting was done with, I was feeling rather shy myself. It was silly, but I couldn't help it.

"Well, er, Harry and I must get going now. So much to do, so little time. It was nice to meet you, Draco," Sirius said.

A shot of despair shot through me. I had only just seen Harry! It seemed unfair to just let him out from under my grasp so quickly.

Harry stepped out from under his godfather's hand and held onto my hand tightly. I raised my eyebrows at him, but he wasn't looking at me. He gazed up at Sirius quietly but defiantly. Sirius seemed surprised to say the least, but he got the hint.

"Well, um, Harry, would you like to stay with your friend a little while longer? I need to go make a trip over at the Apothecary, so could you stay here while I do that?" Harry nodded silently. I decided I liked Sirius even though he tried to cut our meeting short. He didn't seem nearly as cold or uptight as my own parents. My father certainly never would have allowed any meeting at all with Harry. And, admittedly, I would never have had the guts to ever meet with Harry in front of him.

He bid us farewell, and I picked up my bag from the ground, pulling us over to an empty bench.

"So you're going to Hogwarts, then?" I asked Harry, who sat right beside me, still latched onto my hand.

Harry nodded fervently, his black locks swaying with the movement. I wished to hear his voice. I smiled. "That's great! What house do you think you'll get into?"

Harry shrugged slightly and said, "Gryffindor, but it's okay if I don't get into it. I just want to get into whatever house you're in."

I smiled, touched by Harry's words. I felt the same way. He was my only friend, and I couldn't imagine being in separate houses. I squeezed his hand briefly in acknowledgment. "Well, I wanted to be in Slytherin, but if you don't want to be in it, then I guess I won't be either. My entire family has been in Slytherin for _forever_. Do you know what houses your parents were in?"

"Gryffindor. Like the rest of my family."

"Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"How about we try to get in Ravenclaw or something? That way we can _both_ be in different houses than our ancestors." That, and I was sick of all of my father's high expectations of me. I was eleven years old, for Merlin's sake, not some thirty-year-old genius.

"Just so we can prove we can break _forever_?"

"Mhm, so what d'you say? Ravenclaw?"

"Well, I do like blue," Harry remarked.

"Then, it's settled!" I exclaimed. "We'll be a famous duo, ruling the halls of Hogwarts at eleven! Draco and Harry!"

"Harry and Draco!" Harry countered. We fell into hysterical giggles and banter for a few minutes, and Harry was even better in real life than on paper.

I looked up from where I was holding onto Harry through my laughter, and I saw my father's tell-tale groomed mane of white blond hair. A nauseous wave of fear swam through my upper stomach. My father couldn't see Harry and me together. He would take me away from him: I was sure of it.

"I've got to go, Harry. It's my father." Harry knew about my father's rules through our letters. He knew how I wasn't allowed to have friends, and so Harry wordlessly slipped his arms around my shoulders, burying his face in my neck for a few short moments. I returned the hug. I pulled back with reluctance, but my panic was overriding my urge to hug Harry any longer. It was a tragically short meeting, but I couldn't change that.

"I'll see you soon: promise!"

"Bye," Harry said. Those were our last words as I swiftly weaved my way around people and appeared next to my father.

"Ah, there you are, Draco. Did you get your robes?"

"Yes, father." I held up my bag for him to see. My heart was finally slowing down from my mild panic attack.

"Good," he said. "We must be leaving now. We've spent enough time wandering around these mangy streets."

He grabbed my arm tight enough to bruise, and I restrained the urge to cry out. Then I felt a sickening jolt and I was being squeezed through a tight tube and when I finally emerged I gasped because there was no oxygen.

"Now, go see to your studies, Draco," my father ordered.

I held back a groan at the repetitive aspects of my short life. I was subdued as I left the entrance of my home to go to the wing I normally resided in. Hogwarts started in a week. My life would be interesting in a week.

I smiled to myself, grabbed a random book, and settled down onto the black, leather couch.

I would see Harry again in a week.

**A/N: EDIT 12/26/09, as there were soooo many mistakes, and no writing is ever finished. I spelled "forward" wrong for God's sake.**


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